


final atonement

by offclsyn



Category: Chainsaw Man (Manga)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Body Horror, Canon Compliant, F/M, Falling In Love, Gore, Heavy Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Mind Manipulation, Plot, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Suicidal Thoughts, Voyeurism, tagged f/m relationship bc of angel's relationship with his first love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 10:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30087579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offclsyn/pseuds/offclsyn
Summary: “Promise to keep my memory alive, even if I’m not.”Angel felt his cheeks get wet, his chest was shaking and he realized that- oh... he was crying, wasn’t he?Or: a story of love, betrayal, and forgiveness told through the eyes of an angel charged with the worst punishment one could imagine.
Relationships: Angel Devil/Hayakawa Aki
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40





	final atonement

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!! first work for csm:') i've been wanting to write some akiangel angst for a whileeeeee. decided to take more of a character approach instead of my usual dialogue based fics. mostly canon compliant... but... you'll see lol.

Angel had never known the touch of another person that didn’t result in their demise. 

He made quick work of his victims; he’d thank them for their time on this Earth, all while holding their delicate fingers in the palm of his hand, a thumb rubbing into the delicate skin. A soothing gesture. One for appearances only. 

Then, he’d rid them of their conscience. He would watch the light slip from their eyes and their mouths fall open, slack in the after-effects of death. He would feel nothing. He wouldn’t allow himself to. After all, he was a devil before he was an angel.

At some points, however, a certain ache would fill his chest, and if he were none the wiser, he would assume the feeling was one of sadness. He’d simply shrug off the nuance of emotion that settled in his stomach.

As a devil in this line of work, one could not feel these things, could not afford to succumb to human nature, lest one wished to suffer an eternity of self-punishment. 

Slowly, Angel had begun to wish for permanent death. He had heard the tales of reincarnation and how the blessing of revival fell upon the shoulders of devils. 

Angel thought this statement to be one of false pretenses. 

Perhaps it had to do with his relation to biblical origin, but the idea of a God giving his kind this “privilege” filled his mouth with a bitter taste. His tongue soured at the thought that even if he were to run a stake through the concave in his chest, he’d wake up the next day, in a different form, and be forced to continue on. 

What God would place this burden on any being, if not an unrelenting one? One of sadistic nature? He thought that if he were to ever meet this God, he would want to ask him one question of “why?”

He went through every day with near-mechanical movements. He’d wake up foregoing shoes for the time being and walk down the riverbank. He’d traverse on muddy rocks, feel the wind rush through his hair, listen to the harsh stream of water, inhale equal parts oxygen and hope. He’d remember where he stood as he overlooked the steep cliff and back off from the foaming waves.

He’d then return the way he came from, walk down the street for the time being, and take into account all the new things that hadn’t been there the day before:

The jewelry vendor was a different one this time around and he noticed his methods of advertisement consisted of laying his children on the ground with a sign that begged for one’s mercy. 

The radio shack had bought a first-edition television, the first of many (according to recent scientific developments), and placed it in their display case. 

The old man who usually sang folk music was no longer there and Angel imagined he would no longer be able to return to his usual spot; it had seemed that the cold of the winter had been taking a toll on all these individuals.

Angel appreciated humans for what they were and took in their entertainment as it was: entertainment. He had always found them to be interesting things and despite his ghoulish meaning of creation, he never abhorred ill resentment towards them.

After that, he’d always arrive to Makima’s office on time because despite his reckless idealization of suicide, something deep in the caverns of his mind warned him against the woman with hypnotic eyes built to charm even the deadliest of snakes. He always walked with care around her and ignored the seizing of his throat, the shake of his hands. He didn’t know what it was about this woman, but he knew better than to show weakness, to show fear. 

He would simply await for the day all the intentions of the world would unveil themselves and shine the truth for thousands to see.

Angel had then been introduced to a certain Hayakawa Aki. He recalled this chance meeting one of horrible first impressions, at best. 

His first thought when laying eyes upon the full stature of this devil hunter and his lack of hesitation to get near him had been one of interest. The expressionless man had taken no time to consider his mortality as an option when handing him a spotted handkerchief, the contact warming his fingertips.

The touch felt foreign to him. He had always executed his touches with the promise of death at the end of the tunnel. This touch brought none of that. Instead, it filled him with a certain ache in the concave of his chest.

Sweat pearled at his temples at the thought of a different motive filling every one of his crevices, replacing his black blood and reconstructing his thought processes.

To him, Hayakawa Aki was a mystery presented in a shroud of darkness. Angel had seen the declining lifespan gifted to the other man and grimaced at the choices he must have taken to lead him to this point. If Angel didn’t know any better, he supposed that he might’ve felt pity for the human. 

Instead, he ignored his stupidity and continued on with his work.

He ignored the metaphorical marks blemishing his skin in exchange for every soul he took, at every name he wiped from this planet. He refused to think about the children, the mothers, and fathers waiting at home for their kin to return home, only to be delivered a promise of a funeral and a decaying body six feet under.

He ignored the threat of tears that made his eyes well up whenever a certain Hayakawa Aki placed himself in harm’s way, at his discretion. He had never known a human so foolish, so quick to throw his chance of breathing, his chance of growing old, away. Angel contemplated the possibility of a younger sibling waiting at home for Aki, greeting him with wide arms, and a loud shout of his name. 

At those times, a small smile would creep onto his face, his usual neutral expression betrayed by ideas of hushed reassurances and blinding smiles. Angel sparingly thought that he had never seen Aki smile.

A given in this line of work, he always rationalizes.

It is a mere two days before Angel’s rational falls apart and reforms itself into something purely  _ human _ . 

A chance encounter where Aki had thrown a chunk of his life away, had  _ touched  _ him. Where Angel had begged him to let go and his next reincarnation be damned. 

At that point, death had been so tangible he could taste it. Tears sprung at his eyes at the thought of finally being released from the invisible shackles weighing down on his wings.

Then, Aki had wrapped strong fingers (confident in nature,  _ always _ confident,  _ always, always, always _ ) around his thin wrist and the contrast in proportions alone had stolen the breath from his lungs. Promptly, both his feet touched solid ground and Aki’s touch had left as quick as it came. Yet, that touch alone robbed the man of a significant amount of his time.

Then, he had the muttered the words,

_ " _ _ I have had enough of watching people die in front of my eyes.” _

Angel had been overcome by the sudden urge to sob, and to scream, and to  _ throw _ , and  _ hit  _ everything in sight at the other man’s confession. He had never felt anything but complete neutrality towards humans but at that point he knew for certain that what filled his chest, his  _ heart _ , for Hayakawa Aki was the deepest feeling of pain any God could bestow upon a devil such as him.

The feeling ran through him like a fault and it cracked open, his heart bleeding into the gaping ravine and left him with an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness. At his hands, this man’s life was reduced further than it already had been.

It was like a splash of ice-cold water on his rapidly warming disposition. The realization of what he truly was; his purpose to take life paralleled by the urge to protect it, only mirrored by Hayakawa Aki’s readiness to die for others at any given point.

All fight left his body and he stopped struggling against the other man’s chest, only vaguely registering stiff arms holding his lithe body through the layers. 

_ Good _ , he had thought,  _ I do not wish for you to waste more of your life on me. _

Through the noise, he felt as Aki placed his body against a telephone pole and went to assist in fighting. The battle promptly ended with as many casualties as yesterday’s and as many as there are bound to be the next day.

When the other man had returned to check up on him, he had asked him how much of his life had been depleted, Angel responded through the blockade in his throat and— and Aki, that foolish human,—

Had simply acted as if it meant nothing.

He had turned around, shrugged, wiped the blood off his Katana with the very handkerchief he had lent Angel at their first meeting, and said,

“ _ Of course, I don’t want to die. Not much helping this, though.” _

Angel thought that maybe his heartbreak would’ve been settled if Aki held zero care over his own life. As all things in this world, however, good things only came to good people and Angel was  _ not  _ good, let alone a person.

  
  
  
  


The devil and devil hunter did not dare speak of what happened. The event simmered under Angel’s skin like embers of a fire or an itch he could never even dream of scratching. He could never really tell what Aki was thinking, could not envision finding mutual comfort in each other. 

So, they continued with their work and the two eventually fell into a partnership. It seemed that Angel would never be able to escape the mystery of Hayakawa Aki. It was a punishment from God, he was sure. 

Days would pass and the other man’s composure only worsened, his limited time making way for greying skin and lackluster performance.

Despite his frazzled demeanor and busy mind, Angel didn’t miss the way Makima’s attention caught onto Aki like bees to honey, or better yet, like an apex predator sure that its meal has fallen into its trap. His body never once failed to remind him of the danger Makima posed and his wariness only increased whenever he neared her.

  
  
  


Then, on a mission like any other, Angel, along with the entire devil hunter division, had been roughly thrown into what could only be described as  _ hell _ . Ordinary words alone could not justify the complexity of this birthplace, of this system. 

Angel had, for the first time in his eternal life, seen into the eyes of creation and had been deconstructed, had been pulled apart at the nerves, and his limbs ripped from their sockets. He had been on his path to death and instead of excitement or peace filling his receptors, he had felt  _ scared _ .

He had been frantic and a scream clawed its way out of his throat, but he couldn’t even whisper if he wanted to, as the Darkness Devil seemed to silence everything in the air with a  _ whoosh  _ of its hand. __

It felt like there were millions of tiny needles pushing into his skin, breaking and putting him back together. He felt the sick sensation of pleasure curl at his core that seeped from the devil before him and muddled his own sensations of pure fear.

His eyes searched for Aki’s and his heart fell to the floor at the sight that met him. For the first time, he did not see the other man’s usual resilience bursting at the seams. Instead, what he laid his sights upon was a ghost, a shell of a man, once so eager to save others and different from all the other humans he met.

Angel began to choke on a thick liquid and his eyes welled not with tears, but with the same liquid pouring out of his mouth. He pretended that the blood dripping from his lashes were tears, a favorable alternative to reality, as he allowed himself to pseudo-cry over the lack of shine in Aki’s eyes.

_ Does it all end like this? _

It all concluded in mere seconds. Angel remembered a head of red hair,  _ Makima _ , a slight tilt to Aki’s head and their eyes meeting for a brief moment, before everything zipped out of reality. 

He couldn’t say how long he was in that void for but he remembered curling into himself, suddenly devoid of his clothes, and wrapped in his own wings; similar to a cocoon in the way he encased himself, and he once again longed for a certain Hayakawa Aki’s presence. 

He had never allowed himself to long for anyone or anything before. In this space, however, he assumed the comfort his mental Aki provided.

  
  
  
  


The next time he was fully conscious, he recovered his memories from the beach. He had remembered the way the woman in his mind stared at him with something akin to  _ love _ , but never dared get too close.

Angel could understand why.

He remembered how she picked out seashells, their coats shiny from years of natural sanding and saltwater wearing away at their exterior. The woman in his mind fashioned the shells into a necklace and had gently placed it into the palm of Angel’s hand.

He accepted the gift with a soft smile and even though he did not allow her to touch him, the palm of his hand still warmed where the necklace had been placed. Carefully, he wrapped the cord around his neck and tied it in a knot, making sure to center it carefully. He admired the way the shells shined in the sunlight, the necklace adding to his attire of just a simple pair of shorts.

He remembered how some nights the woman and him would go into their shared hut and lay on their separate cots. The woman would light a circular candle and shrug off her tunic, exposing a long torso and dewdrop shaped breasts, nipples hardening with the change in temperature.

Angel would watch with rapt attention as she would spread her legs and her hand would travel towards her sex. Her slender fingers would rub circles into her heat and she’d throw her head back, breathing heavy at the pleasure. Angel would simply fist at the blankets covering his legs, blood filling his lower region at the wanton display.

He remembered how at times he would wake up from a heavy sleep to the sight of brown eyes and a hesitant hand hovering over his face. He’d back up in fear and yell, 

_ "Do you want to die?!” _

_ "Of course, I don’t want to die.” _

Ah, of course.

He remembered falling in love, and just as quick, his love getting ripped away from him. He blinked once and as he peered down, he noticed the people of his village laying dead around him in a circle, as if mocking the halo floating above his head. The hand of his lover still held in his grasp. The skin was cold to the touch.

He had remembered death and at the corner was Makima.

_ Makima, Makima, Makima. _

Always  _ Makima. _

The next time he blinked, he was at the same beach where he decimated his family and lover, except in front of him stood Makima and Aki. For a second, it felt like he could breathe again.

“ _ I accept your contract.” _

Then, everything happened in mere seconds. A scream of pure terror came from thin air and he realized it was  _ him _ shouting. It was him rushing towards Makima—

Incarnation of  _ evil _ , of  _ deception _ , of  _ lies, _ of  _ death _ .

—as he conjured a sword and stumbled towards the imposing woman, his teeth clenching the body of the blade.

“ _ Down.” _

His entire body felt gelatinous and his jaw fell slack, sword falling from his grip and he watched it clatter to the sand, his body following right after. His eyes searched for Aki and he saw him, eyes dead and lifeless, with a chain wrapped around him, metal cord puncturing a hole in his stomach and lifting him in the air.

It was then that Angel understood just exactly what his body had been warning him against. This was no ordinary devil, nor human, nor hunter. This was years of experience, multiple cycles stocked into one being, seemingly able to revive herself within the same mind and body. 

Angel had been working alongside his kryptonite from the very beginning.

Perhaps, he should’ve paid more attention to the song being used to charm the snake, rather than the charmer herself.

Perhaps, he should’ve said what he wanted to say to Aki long ago, after their chance touch. Perhaps, he should’ve succumbed one final time and been selfish. He should’ve reached out, should’ve appreciated Hayakawa Aki one final time.

Now here he was facing his final atonement at the hands of an unjust God.

_ Why? _

Angel’s eyes slipped shut.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ “Angel?” _

_ … _

_ “Angel?” _

_ “Can you hear me?” _

_ “Angel, open your—” _

_ “—if you were to—” _

_ “Just open—” _

_ “Angel!” _

He felt weightless. He didn’t seem to have any ground, as his feet searched for support. He wobbled in suspension but a hand reached out to hold him still.

A hand?

He cracked his eyes open and was faced with blue eyes and an expressionless face. Aki? He looked down to see where the other man’s hand made contact with his shoulder.

His heart stuttered to a stop and a gasp was ripped out of him. He hurried to rush away from him,  _ get away!— _

The hand did not detach. It only tightened its grip.

He couldn’t handle it anymore.

Angel started to cry. Tears poured down his face and fingers collected the droplets gathering on his lashes. Confident hands. Never a hint of hesitation when it came to Hayakawa Aki.

The two stood (or floated, existed, whatever could be considered upright in this space) for what seemed to be eons— Aki’s hand holding his face and Angel found himself subconsciously leaning into it. He chuckled wetly.  _ Weak. Selfish. _

Angel wondered at what point the other man would waste away? He refused to look and see. His heart couldn’t handle the pain of losing Aki again. Of losing another one of his loves by his hand. He couldn’t handle another person dying because of him.

“ _ Open your eyes. It’s okay.” _

A quiet, mellow voice reassured. Angel smiled in response, sure his mind was playing tricks on him. Aki’d be dead by now. He’d have to be.

The hand on his face persisted.

“ _ Open your eyes, Angel.” _

This time, the devil (could he even be considered one at this point? He faced his final verdict— was he not yet free from wandering, doomed to bring death?) opened his eyes, eyelashes fluttering.

In front of him was Hayakawa Aki; vibrant as ever, one arm still missing from its socket, and his hand solid against his face. His hair was no longer in a top-knot, instead falling in black tendrils and covering the sides of his face.

Angel would think he’d look dashing, no matter what.

The hand against his face traveled to his hair and gripped the pink hair lightly, rubbing comforting circles into his scalp. Angel sighed into the grip, his head sagged forward and Aki sidled right against him. 

Now, they were chest to chest. He could feel the taller man’s heartbeat and his fingers itched to hold onto him but he realized he  _ didn’t have any arms _ . He weakly chuckled.

“ _ What will happen now?” _

The hand in his hair stilled, gently coerced him into looking up, and Aki knocked their foreheads together.

Angel thinks that if he could, he’d stay here for eternity. In the other man’s embrace; completely unsure whether this was real or not. He could count his lashes and the light hairs that dusted Aki’s cheeks, the blue in his eyes made him feel like he was plunging headfirst into calm waters and emerging hours later to a heavy downpour.

“ _ I’m not sure. My time is running out, though.” _

Angel’s brows furrowed at this. What time?

“ _ Never forget me, yeah? Make sure to keep me in here—” _

_ — _ A hand settled atop his breast, right where his heart was located—

“ _ Thank you for trying to save me. If you find Denji, tell him it’s not his fault—” _

Angel felt his cheeks get wet, his chest was shaking and he realized that-  _ oh... _ he was crying, wasn’t he?

“ _ Promise to keep my memory alive, even if I’m not.” _

He felt a pair of lips press against his tear-covered cheek and it felt like  _ static _ and it was amazing, but Angel’s fantasy could only last so long, now can it? A hand slipped away from his hair and his space was suddenly free of any invaders, of Aki, and he tried to reach out, to grab on to the other man, he was  _ desperate _ , tears were blocking his vision and he yelled out,

“ _ Don’t leave! Where are you going?!” _

As Angel continued to crawl on his knees, pathetically dragging his torso across the floor to try and reconnect with the taller man, Aki’s form continued to walk on, leaving him to fend for himself. Sobs began to rack his body and his voice was unintelligible, even to him, as he begs for the other man to  _ please stay _ . He has lost his first love, he doesn’t think he can bear the thought of losing another.

Aki stops walking and a flame of hope flickers inside him. There’s snot dripping down his face and his eyes feel puffy (he bets he is such a sight).

Angel feels his body softly get pulled up and suddenly he is standing again and just as he is about to open his mouth again, beg for Aki to  _ stay _ —

The other man fades away.

He is left alone in this seemingly bottomless void, lacking any clothes, any protection, any Aki.

He feels his vision going black at the edges, lightheaded from all the movement, and he faintly thinks he hears the sound of a chainsaw revving.

The last memory Angel has is the sight of Aki not even responding to his pleas. Instead, he is just smiling forlornly.

Angel keeps the memory in his heart and prays.

  
  
  


“ _ I promise.” _

  
  
  


_ … _

_…_

_…_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! i hope to write more akiangel in the future. kudos and comments feed me.


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